Minding Debbie
by MMB
Summary: Sydney babysits Debbie Broots when Miss Parker isn't available


Title - Minding Debbie  
Author - MMB   
Rating - PG  
Fandom - The Pretender  
Category - V  
Spoilers - none  
Timeline - anytime after Donateresa  
Keywords - SBF, SDF  
Summary - Sydney babysits Debbie when Miss Parker isn't available  
Disclaimer - They aren't mine. I'm just borrowing them for a bit. Please don't kill me...  
  
  
Minding Debbie  
by MMB  
  
Broots put a gentle hand on his daughter's well stuffed backpack as it hung from her shoulders and propelled her into the Sim Lab in front of him, juggling his own luggage awkwardly in his other hand.   
  
"Where's Miss Parker, Dad?" Debbie asked brightly. Her father's normally prickly boss was one of her all-time favorite people, and she always looked forward to an opportunity to spend time with her when her dad ended up being sent out of town on business. The first time, the two of them had gone shopping, resulting in Debbie's acquiring a sophisticated leather skirt and overcoat combo and hairdo that had made her look like a miniature Miss Parker. The second time they had talked late into the night about all kinds of things that Debbie could never discuss with her Dad. What they would do this time had been a fascinating daydream ever since her father had announced the trip the previous evening.  
  
"Miss Parker isn't around today, sweetie. She was getting ready to go somewhere else last night when I called her, and won't be back for several days." Broots gave his daughter a look of regretful chagrin. "She said to tell you she was sorry, and that she'd catch you next time."  
  
Debbie was disappointed and suddenly very unsure of herself. "But, I thought you said that you were going to have to go to Texas and that you were dropping me off..."  
  
"I do and I am, Deb. I'm leaving in just a few minutes."  
  
Debbie's big brown eyes looked up into her father's in full confusion. "Then who..."  
  
"Ah, Broots, there you are..." Sydney's voice proceeded him from the small office on the edge of the Sim Lab. "I was beginning to wonder if you still wanted me to..."  
  
"Sydney!" Broots seemed relieved to see the psychiatrist. "Oh, so sorry I'm late. I figured that this time of year, Texas would be stifling, so I was trying... And then you wouldn't believe..."  
  
The Belgian smiled indulgently, but put up a quieting hand. "Broots! Mr. Raines won't appreciate being held up for much longer. He's called down here at least three times already. You'd best say your good-byes to Debbie and get moving. You were supposed to be here a half-hour ago."  
  
"That's what happens when these things are decided at the spur of the moment," Broots grumbled. "This is a weekend, fer Christ's sake - why couldn't Mr. Raines have called a computer tech WITHOUT a family..." He gave a shudder to think of the ghoulish company he would necessarily be keeping for the next two days, then shook himself and bent down to his daughter. "Since Miss Parker isn't going to be here for you this time, Debbie, Dr. Green has agreed that you could stay with him while I'm gone. So you be good for him, and do everything he tells you, OK?"  
  
Debbie looked up apprehensively into the kindly face of an older man her father had spoken of so many times with a consistent combination of admiration, awe and deference. She had met the man her daddy called "Sydney" herself only once before, briefly, while waiting for Miss Parker to take her home. While she had found herself intrigued by his soft accent and refined manner, she'd been intimidated by his age and apparent exalted status in her father's estimation. "I promise, Daddy." She stood up on tiptoe while Broots bent to give his daughter a kiss good-bye.  
  
"We'll be fine, Broots, don't you worry." Sydney had moved to Debbie's side and had placed a gentle yet protective hand on her shoulder.   
  
Broots thought for a moment, then shook Sydney's hand. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate this..."  
  
Sydney chuckled. "Its my pleasure, Broots. I look forward to getting to know Debbie a little better." He nodded in the direction of the sliding doors. "Now, you'd better get going."  
  
"Uh, yeah..." Broots blew Debbie another kiss. "I love you, sweetheart," he murmured in a voice meant just for her, then walked quickly out of the Sim Lab.  
  
Debbie looked up again into the face of Dr. Green with her touch of apprehension just that much more acute. She knew her dad was smart - so if there was somebody that he held in high esteem, being so close to such a person was almost frightening for Debbie. Sydney smiled down at her kindly, noting the apprehension in her face, and bent down so he could address her more on her level.  
  
"Well, now, its just us for the next couple of days, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes, sir," she answered in a meek voice, not entirely sure how to act around him.  
  
"I'm afraid that I have some paperwork that I need to catch up on this morning, so we're stuck here for a little while yet. By any chance, did you pack something that you can keep yourself busy with while I finish up?"  
  
Debbie nodded - she had packed the sketchbook and drawing pencils her father had given her for last Christmas in the backpack that was serving as her overnight case. Drawing was fun.   
  
"Good!" With a gentle hand at her back, Sydney guided the girl over to a worktable and held the chair for her while she sat down. "Another thing - I like to listen to music while I do paperwork. It's probably not the kind of music you and your friends like to listen to, but would you mind if I put some on?"  
  
"Go ahead," she said with tiny shook her head, as much to indicate her permission as her confusion. Miss Parker had never spent much time asking her what she WANTED; she had assumed that other exalted people wouldn't do such a thing either. She pulled out the sketchbook and pencils to mask her discomfort, opened the sketchbook, and set herself to trying to remember the farm she and her dad had visited a few weeks back. She was aware that Dr. Green continued to watch over her for a long moment, then...  
  
"I'll be just over there, in my office, if you need me. OK?" he asked softly, stepping back.  
  
Debbie nodded again wordlessly, concentrating on her drawing. Soon, soft strains of Mozart flowed over the Sim Lab. It was music Debbie had never heard before, but she found it soothing and helpful to her concentration.   
  
Just about the time that Debbie was finally starting to get tired of drawing, she heard the sliding door of the Sim Lab activate behind her. Turning, she saw someone she recognized walk quickly into the Lab and over to Dr. Green's office with some folders under his arm. When the man emerged from the office again and began heading for the sliding doors again, she waved and called at him brightly. "Hi, Sam!"  
  
"Hey, squirt! What are you doing here?" The burly sweeper's face softened with a wide smile, and he made a detour over to her table.  
  
"Dad's off to Texas," Debbie explained.  
  
"Yeah, I heard about that. What are you doing here? I understand Miss Parker's gone too."   
  
Debbie nodded. "I know. I was really hoping to get a chance to see her."  
  
Sam's brow furled. "So - what are you doing here?" he repeated.  
  
"Dr. Green is taking care of me this time, and he has a few things to do before we can leave."  
  
Sam grunted and nodded, filing the information away. "Well, pint-size, I wish I could stay and give you another chance at me on the checkerboard while the doc finishes his paperwork, but they've got me running errands all over the place today. I gotta get back, ya know?"  
  
The girl smiled up at him. "That's OK. It was nice to see you again."  
  
"Is something going on out here?" Sydney poked his head out the door of his office at the sound of voices, and frowned as he saw Sam standing so close to his temporary charge. "Debbie, are you OK?"  
  
"Hey, doc, you better watch out for this little lady. She's a tiger on the checkerboard!" Sam called over his shoulder. He gave a quick pat on Debbie's head by way of farewell, which made the girl giggle, and then he slipped back out the sliding doors again.  
  
Sydney's eyes had widened at the familiar way the huge sweeper had interacted with the girl combined with her surprising total lack of fear of the man, and then smiled as he leaned against the doorjamb. "That's right - I now remember Miss Parker giving Sam an AWFULLY bad time about his losing to you at checkers a while back. Maybe you and I could play a game or two this weekend - what do you say?"  
  
Debbie smiled back at him shyly. "That sounds like fun." She thought for a moment, then decided to get brave and piped up again, "Dr. Green, are you just about finished with your papers yet?"  
  
Sydney chuckled. "Getting bored with drawing, are you?" He chuckled again as he watched her shyly turn red and look away in embarrassment. "I'm not surprised. This isn't a good place for a healthy child to spend much time." He thought for a moment, then seemed to reach a decision. "That's it. I'm done. Whatever's left can wait until Monday. Let me shut down things in here, and then lets get out in the sun and fresh air."  
  
Debbie perked up and immediately began stowing her drawing supplies back into the over-stuffed backpack. By the time she had everything zipped up tight and the pack hanging from one shoulder, Sydney had turned the lights off in his office and was waiting by her table. He had his jacket tossed nonchalantly over his shoulder and held by one finger and a grey felt beret perched jauntily on his head. He extended his other hand out to the young girl, who thought for a moment and then put her hand in his. He then touched a pad on the wall near the sliding doors, and the lights in the Sim Lab dimmed to nearly extinguished. Together they walked through the sliding doors and out of the Lab.  
  
"Well, well, well! And who is this?"  
  
Lyle's heavy hands landed, one on Sydney's shoulder and the other on Debbie's, as he stepped up behind them as they stood waiting for the elevator.  
  
"Mr. Lyle," Sydney said dryly, in a way that reminded Debbie of somebody having something foul-tasting in their mouth. "This is Debbie, Broot's daughter. Debbie, this is Mr. Lyle."  
  
"Ah! I've heard about you, young lady," Lyle said smoothly, squeezing Debbie's shoulder for emphasis.  
  
"Hello," Debbie managed in a very small voice.  
  
Sydney felt Debbie's hand in his hold onto him just a little more tightly, and he turned an impatient eye to the younger Parker male. "Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Lyle? We WERE just on our way out..."  
  
Lyle's gaze flicked up to meet Sydney's with a short spark of irritation, then he covered it over with a wide, patently insincere smile. "No, no, nothing important, Sydney. I just was wondering who your young friend was here. I don't often see you escorting children OUT of the Centre..."  
  
Debbie watched, mesmerized, while Dr. Green simply looked without speaking at the man whose attitude and mannerisms reminded her of a snake. Young as she was, she had seen this game played before - when watching her mother deal with moneylenders she owed money to in Las Vegas. Obviously, Dr. Green was no more impressed by this Mr. Lyle than she was and was going to give him as little information as necessary.   
  
The elevator door chose that moment to slide open, and Lyle patted Debbie on the shoulder again. "Nice to have met you, Debbie," he smiled in his own insincere, predatory manner, then nodded at Sydney. "See you Monday, Syd." He turned on his heel and walked away as if he owned the entire complex.  
  
Sydney felt Debbie shudder away the sensation of Lyle's pat on the shoulder and squeezed the girl's hand comfortingly. "I agree completely. C'mon, Debbie. Let's get you out of this place."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"I was thinking that you might enjoy spending the rest of the weekend up at my fishing cabin in the mountains," Sydney mentioned as he climbed into the driver's seat of his car and fastened his seatbelt. "But it occurs to me that you may not have packed for colder weather."  
  
"No, I didn't," Debbie said, crestfallen. Her daddy had spoken of Sydney's beautiful cabin in the mountains, wishing that he might be able to talk his friend into letting him take her up there someday. Then she brightened. "But I have a key to our house - I can always let myself in and grab something warmer." She turned a hopeful face to her temporary guardian. "Please, Dr. Green..."  
  
"Alright, I'll take you over to your place on one condition," Sydney said gently.  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"That for the rest of this weekend, no more of this 'Dr. Green' stuff. My friends call me Sydney, and I'd be very honored if you would too." He smiled at her encouragingly in answer to her shocked and hesitant expression. "I know your dad has taught you that this is the way to be polite, but its also OK for an adult to give you permission to use their given name. So, will you do that for me?"  
  
Debbie smiled back brilliantly. "OK, Sydney," she tried out a little hesitantly, and received a wide grin for her efforts. It warmed her, knowing that something so simple could please someone so important. "Thanks!"  
  
Sydney started up the car. "OK, now that THAT'S settled," he stated to nobody in particular and then put the car in gear. He could feel that the young girl's apprehension of him had ebbed considerably with the exchange, and smiled inwardly. Broots had done a very good job raising a thoughtful and polite young lady. This was promising to be a most enjoyable and relaxing weekend.  
  
The stop at the Broots house was a quick one. Debbie flew from the car and into the house while Sydney waited for her patiently, then flew back out of the house again with a plastic shopping bag into which she'd obviously stuffed some warmer clothing clutched in one hand. Over her other arm, she had slung a substantial jacket. Sydney took her burden from her as she climbed back into the car and deposited it on the back seat. "Did you remember to lock up?"  
  
"Yes, sir," Debbie perked happily.  
  
"Then off we go!"   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
After a short stop in a small market in the village closest to the cabin for enough groceries for the weekend, Sydney watched Debbie's reaction to the scenery as he steered the car up the winding mountain road with pleasure. When the cabin finally came into view through the trees, and the car turned from the paved road itself onto the graveled drive, she turned to him with wide eyes. "This is your cabin?!"   
  
"Uh-huh. What do you think?" he asked with a smile.  
  
"Its as beautiful here as Daddy said it was," she answered in a breathless voice, awed by the sense of silent majesty that the surrounding forest and peaceful lake gave to the rustic building.   
  
Sydney smiled inwardly again. It was amazingly refreshing to visit this place, for years his own personal refuge from civilization, through the eyes of a child. Besides, it had been a while since he had considered the peaceful beauty of the setting for its own sake, and not in relation to other more difficult memories. "Well," he said, turning the engine off, "let's get our stuff into the cabin and get settled a little, and then I'll take you exploring." He reached around and retrieved her jacket and sack of warmer clothing, then watched Debbie bounce from the car joyously before climbing out himself and heading for the trunk and their groceries.  
  
Except for a slight smell of dust, the cabin seemed unchanged from the last time Sydney had been there - during that painful time when Jacob had taken his final turn for the worse and then died. He pushed the door open and let the girl enter before him, and watched in amusement as she looked all around with intense curiosity, but politely held back and waited for her host. He led her into the spacious living room and then nodded at the staircase by the kitchen doorway. "There's a bedroom up there that can be yours for the night. Why don't you scoot upstairs and drop off your stuff up there, then you can come down and check the place out a bit while I fix us some lunch."  
  
Debbie glanced up at him for reassurance again, then vanished up the stairs. Sydney chuckled to himself and then headed towards the back of the cabin and the kitchen to put away the perishable supplies, leaving out the sandwich makings and chips. He was almost at the point of calling to his young visitor when Debbie peeked around the corner and then stepped into the kitchen.  
  
"There's only the one bedroom upstairs. Where are you going to sleep?" she asked quietly, finding a seat for herself at the kitchen table.  
  
"The other bedroom is downstairs," he informed her as he handed her a plate. "The curtains near the front door hide it."  
  
Debbie munched on a few chips thoughtfully. Then, "Do you think it would be OK if I went swimming in the lake this afternoon?"  
  
Sydney shook his head. "I don't think so, Debbie - not at this time of year. Unfortunately, the water's too cold now because we're getting close to winter. In the summertime, however, it can get rather warm up here - and yes, it would be OK to swim in the lake then." He saw a shadow of disappointment flit across her features. "I'll tell you what: maybe this next summer you can come up and swim, maybe even bring one or two of your friends with you for a weekend..."  
  
The girl looked up at him in astonishment, her sandwich suspended halfway between plate and lips. "You'd let me do that?"   
  
He nodded thoughtfully. "I think that it would be a shame to know someone who would love to come up here from time to time, and yet just keep this cabin to myself and not share." He looked around the kitchen. "I think its about time this cabin starts to live again."  
  
"Don't you come up here by yourself sometimes?" Debbie asked with shy curiosity.  
  
Sydney shook his head and reached for a chip. "I haven't for a while now - not since my brother died."  
  
"I'm sorry, I didn't know..." Debbie found herself unsure of how to proceed in the face of unexpected sadness.  
  
"Don't worry about it," he said, shaking off the mood he'd been in danger of falling into and smiling at her again encouragingly. "I think it will be a good thing for me to help you have an enjoyable time here this weekend - you can give me a new set of memories to associate with the cabin." He popped another chip in his mouth. "So you see, you're really doing me a favor by coming up here with me today."  
  
"And its really OK if I invite some friends to come up this summer?"  
  
"It really is OK if you do that. As a matter of fact, I'll make a point of suggesting that to your Dad when I see him next time," he chuckled indulgently. "How's that?"  
  
Debbie grabbed up her sandwich and took a huge bite with a smile on her face. "That is SO cool! Thanks, Sydney!!"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Sydney sat down on a fallen log and rested, at the same time watching Debbie explore this untamed, uncultivated forest glen with unrestrained enthusiasm. Their afternoon walk had been kept to a steady and tolerable pace more suited to his age and lack of stamina. Together, they had explored along the lakeshore and up the mountainside to the barbed wire fence that was the edge of the property. They had found the little creek that was one of the feeders to the lake and watched a pair of white-tailed does walk through the underbrush in the distance.  
  
"We're going to be needing to head back soon," he called over to her after casting an appraising eye to the sky visible through the canopy of red and gold leaves above them. He pushed the sleeve of his jacket up to glance at his watch. "The sun goes down fast up here. Besides, its getting close to suppertime - and I don't know about you, but an afternoon of wandering up and down a mountainside has given me an appetite."  
  
Debbie straightened and walked carefully through the underbrush to sit down next to him, then looked out over the various features of the secluded little glen. "Its beautiful here," she said softly, as if unwilling to disturb the serenity of the setting anymore than necessary. "Can I bring my drawing stuff up here tomorrow and do some sketching?"  
  
"Provided the weather stays favorable," Sydney agreed in an equally soft tone. "We've got clouds that have moved in since we started out this afternoon," he pointed up above their heads, "and we may have rain before the night is done."  
  
Debbie looked up herself, then shrugged. "Well, I suppose if I don't get to do the sketches this time, I can do them when I come up in the summer..."  
  
Sydney chuckled. "If your friends don't keep you too busy to do any, that is," he remarked lightly, and got to his feet. "Let's head back now."  
  
Debbie rose and walked with him quietly for a while, enjoying the scenery along the pathway back down the mountain to the cabin by the lake. Her time with Sydney today had been very restful; and she hadn't found him half as intimidating as her father appeared to, nor as inflexible or irascible as her mother had taught her to think most older people were. He was a quiet man, not prone to endless or boring lectures about this or that regardless of her interest and yet full of useful and interesting information when she did ask. He had proven to be far more approachable than Miss Parker had been at first, which had steadily eased Debbie's apprehension of him. He'd answered all of her questions with the same kind of forthright honesty that her dad did, and had not refused her permission to go or do something without also giving her what he felt was a good reason for the denial. He made her feel comfortable and respected, and she was finding she genuinely enjoyed being in his company.  
  
At times like these lately, she would marvel at how different her life had become since she'd come to live with her dad. She never had reason to doubt that she was the center of her father's world - his every word and action spoke of his devotion. That unconditional and constant love was so different from what she'd received from her mother, especially in her last days in her care. Life had always been a rollercoaster ride in Las Vegas or Atlantic City, always a contest whether there would be enough money for rent and food as well as her mother's gambling, with the gambling always being the most important - more important even than Debbie herself. And when her mother had been unwilling or unable to care for her, she had either simply left her daughter to shift for herself in their apartment or motel room or foisted her off on casual acquaintances who could be easily convinced. Some of those 'visits' had left her with lingering nightmares that she had yet to reveal to anyone.  
  
In contrast, her father had managed to consistently find her decent people who seemed genuinely interested in seeing to her welfare when his work drew him out of the picture. Miss Parker had twice stepped up to take care of her, and now Sydney had taken on the task. Both were intensely private and very responsible people who evidently thought enough of her father to extend the same consideration to her they did to Broots. Miss Parker had become a very important element of Debbie's new life, someone she knew she could look up to and depend on; and something told her that it was very likely that Sydney would become equally important to her as well over time. She was curious to know more about him, and decided to satisfy one of her questions.  
  
"Sydney?"  
  
The psychiatrist looked down at the girl walking at his side. "Yes?"  
  
"Can I ask you something?"  
  
"Sure," he consented without hesitation. "What would you like to know?"  
  
Debbie looked up at him. "Do you have any kids?"  
  
She saw him smile softly. "I have one son, Nicholas."  
  
"How old is he?"  
  
"Old, to you," Sydney chuckled. "He's all grown up now."  
  
"Are you a grandfather, then, too?"  
  
"No. Nicholas isn't married. Why do you ask?"  
  
The girl shrugged. "I was just curious. You just remind me of how a grandfather would be."  
  
"And how is that?" Sydney was intrigued. "Do I remind you of one of your grandparents?"  
  
"I never knew my grandparents," Debbie said, her voice having gone flat in an attempt not to show how much the admission hurt. "My mom told me they were all dead a long time before I was born."  
  
"I'm sorry." His voice was soft and comforting, having heard the pain anyway and wishing to soothe if he could. "But if you never knew your grandparents, how do you know what a grandfather would be like?"  
  
She shrugged again. "I hear some of the other kids in school talk about theirs, and I kinda fill in the blanks."   
  
"That makes sense," he said with a nod. "So, tell me - what do you think a grandfather would be like?"  
  
"Nice," Debbie said, blushing slightly again, "like you."  
  
"That's quite a compliment," Sydney remarked, touched. "Thank you."  
  
They walked into the clearing where the cabin sat, and Sydney looked up at the sky. "I tell you what. I'll go in and start our supper, and you can play near the cabin until its ready. Do you know how to skip rocks?"  
  
Debbie shook her head. "I've only heard about it from other kids talking about their vacations..."  
  
"Well, then, let me show you before I go in. This is something every child should have a chance to learn at least once in their lives..."  
  
Sydney took her down to the lakeside and showed her how to select the best and flattest rocks and how to throw them so they bounced across the water. Then, with a caution to stay within sight of the cabin and not to go in the water, he went inside to prepare their meal.  
  
Fifteen minutes later, he heard the front door of the cabin open and close rapidly. "Get tired already?" he called from the kitchen.  
  
Debbie started laughing in the living room, then walked into the kitchen to show him that she was now nearly drenched from head to toe. "Uh... I was standing there making triple skips, and all of a sudden it started to pour..."  
  
Sydney tsked and shook his head at her, then walked over to turn her around with a gentle hand at the shoulder and give her a gentle push out of the kitchen. "You get out of those wet clothes before you catch your death, young lady," he insisted, pointing toward the stairs. "I'll have a towel from the bathroom for your hair when you come back down. Bring your wet clothes with you - we can hang them in the bathroom to dry overnight."  
  
He ducked into the bathroom and retrieved a thick, fluffy terry bath towel, then draped it over the back of a chair and headed for the free-standing fireplace and began cleaning out ancient ashes and laying the kindling for a fire to warm the cabin as nighttime fell. The flames were just beginning to dance up between the logs he'd carefully arranged, and he'd just turned on the floor lamp to bring more light into the quickly-darkening room when he heard her stirring behind him. He turned and saw Debbie had exchanged her drenched denim overalls, t-shirt and jacket for a warm set of sweat clothes and thick socks for her feet.  
  
"Much better," he smiled at her approvingly, rising. "You take that towel and dry your hair here in front of the fire while I finish supper, then. Give me your wet things..."   
  
Debbie handed him her soaked clothing and took the towel from back of the chair and moved towards one of the chairs near the fireplace, rubbing at her hair. "This is nice," she commented over her shoulder at his back as he headed toward the bathroom. "The fire makes the place smell warm."  
  
"We'll eat our supper out there, I think," Sydney answered over his shoulder as well as he carefully hung clothing over towel racks. "I don't want you catching a chill with a wet head." As if to echo his sentiment, from outside came a crash of thunder and flash of lightening that briefly shone through the windows of the cabin like bright sunlight, and the lights in the cabin flickered slightly. He looked over toward his young guest after finishing with the clothing in the bathroom and found her staring back at him with frightened eyes. "Are you OK?" he asked gently, moving in her direction in concern.  
  
"I... I don't like storms," she began lamely, wringing the towel between her two hands in distress, her wet hair forgotten utterly.  
  
Sydney seated himself in the other chair near the fireplace and motioned for her to come over to him. "I can see that," he said in a smooth and soothing voice. "Come on over here, turn around and sit in front of me, then, and I'll dry your hair for you," he directed, twirling a finger to demonstrate what he wanted her to do. Debbie seated herself on the braided rug at his feet, grateful for the security of his closeness. As he spread the towel over her head and began gently rubbing away the water from her hair, the thunder crashed again - a little louder this time - and he felt her flinch beneath his hands and cringe back against his legs a little closer.  
  
"You know, a long time ago, when my brother and I were both terrified of the storms, my grandmother told me that the thunder was nothing but the angels pushing the clouds around until they crashed into each other," he mused aloud at her in a calm and soothing voice. "And then, when we asked her about the lightening, she told us it was heavenly fireworks." He could feel her relax slightly against his knee as he spoke. "She had us so convinced with her story that for a while that we'd race to the windows to see if we could see the angels pushing the clouds."  
  
"When I was really small," Debbie began in a very hesitant voice, "one of my first memories is of living in Atlantic City not long after Dad left, and this huge storm came in off the Atlantic. I was terrified by all the noise and the lightening." She paused, and Sydney could feel her muscles tighten up.  
  
"What happened?" he asked gently, his hands slowing in their rubbing and coming to rest on her shoulders, as if to give her support to tell the rest of her story.  
  
She shook her head. "My mom got really mad at me," she said finally, with the same kind of flat, emotionless tone he'd heard earlier in the forest that was evidently her way of trying to hide her distress at painful memories.  
  
"And?" he urged her, putting a hand on her damp hair and stroking it soothingly. What was it about children whose lives brushed too close to The Centre? The very last thing he had intended to be faced with during this restful weekend of babysitting was a distressed Debbie facing painful or disturbing memories on his watch. Broots had never intimated that his daughter was anything but a happy-go-lucky eleven-year-old, although it was no secret that her life with her mother had been anything but pleasant or stable. Still, he had the impression that he was being made privy to a very closely held secret fear, something that maybe she hadn't yet had either the opportunity or courage to bring to her father.   
  
She shook her head beneath his hand a little more vehemently. "I don't remember," she said and then sniffled. She wiped at her nose and eyes with a hand and trained her eyes on the multicolored fabric braid of the rug she was sitting on.  
  
Sydney sat very still after setting the towel aside on the arm of his chair. When she sniffled again, he knew he needed no more information about what had happened than she'd already provided - her sadness spoke eloquently of how not only did she indeed remember, but the memory itself was a bad one. He quickly stomped down a flash of intense anger at such an insensitive and cruel mother. "Does your dad know about this?" he asked very gently, almost certain of her response and thus not very surprised when she shook her head again after a short hesitation. There was an incredibly bright flash of lightning that once more illuminated the interior as if at midday, followed by the loud crash of thunder. Debbie once more flinched as if hit and cringed back against Sydney's leg even tighter.  
  
"Come here," he said, no longer able to bear the idea of letting her continue to suffer her fear alone. When she turned terrified and tear-filled eyes over her shoulder at him, he opened his arms to her and said, "Come here and sit up here on my lap with me for a while. I'll keep you safe." Another bright flash and the beginnings of another loud rumbling motivated her to finally scramble to her feet and let him gather her into his arms and pull her into his lap.   
  
"You aren't mad at me?" she asked in a small voice.   
  
"For what?" he asked in surprise, sitting back finally as she leaned into his chest and rested her damp head on his shoulder. "Why, I can remember being so scared by a storm when I was small that I ran upstairs to my room and crawled under my bed and hid there until long after it was finished. Nobody ever got angry with me when I got scared, so why should I be angry with you for being scared?"  
  
The thunder crashed again, and the lights flickered again - and this time went out, leaving the cabin dark except for the light from the flames in the fireplace. Debbie dove deeper into Sydney's arms with a terrified squeak, and he tightened his embrace around her and hushed gently into her ear until she stopped her trembling.  
  
"You know, one way to stop being so afraid of storms is to try to turn them into an adventure," he said finally, once he knew she was able to listen to him again.  
  
"An adventure?" she sniffled against his neck, intrigued by the idea despite herself.  
  
"Indeed. We can pretend that this is a time before electricity. We can get out the oil lamps and candles, and eat our supper by candlelight." Sydney deliberately made his voice light and carefree, so as to begin to dispel the aura of fear that was drowning his young charge. "What do you say - are you game?"  
  
Debbie slowly untucked her face from where she had hidden it against Sydney's neck and looked out into the dimly lit living room with trepidation. "Eat by candlelight? Us??"  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
Sydney could feel a little of the extreme tenseness in her body had eased slightly as she snuggled back against him again. "I can remember Daddy making me a special dinner for my birthday and us eating by candlelight..."  
  
"That's the idea!" Sydney exclaimed in a reassuring tone. He pointed across the room. "Do you see where that oil lamp is there on top of the cabinet?" He saw her head nod. "Can you go bring it here to me? I'll get one of the matches I use to light the fire and get that one lit, so we can have light to move through the cabin. OK?"  
  
After another assessing look up into his face and seeing nothing but calm and expectancy there, Debbie scooted off Sydney's lap and trotted over to collect the oil lamp. Just as quickly she trotted back to his side where he now stood next to the fireplace, shaking a match from the matchbox. "You hold the lamp base for me, while I take the chimney off," he instructed, then pulled the bulbous glass tube from its metal bed and set it safely to one side. "Now, hold it very still for me." He twisted the little knob to bring forth the wick a little further, then struck the match and lit it. He blew out the match and tossed it into the fire, then adjusted the wick again before it could begin to smoke and then replaced the chimney.  
  
Debbie watched the process in fascination, and couldn't help but see how that single small flame immediately chased away much of the darkness of the room. Seeing that having just a little bit extra light had obviously helped the girl relax, Sydney pocketed the matchbox, then reached down to take the lamp from her. He put out his other hand to her. "Come on. Let's go to the kitchen and dig out some candles to set up for our dining table." He felt Debbie slip her hand into his empty one as he began to move, and together they headed in the direction of the kitchen.   
  
Another distant rumble of thunder sounded. He felt her hand tighten around his and her body press in a little more closely to his side, and then he heard her mumble to herself, "Just angels crashing the clouds together." He smiled inwardly and sent a quick thought of gratitude in the direction of the memory of his grandmother. Then he set the oil lantern in the center of the kitchen table, where its light could reach most corners of the room, and began directing the slightly less frightened girl in where to find candles and holders.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"King me!"  
  
Sydney tsked at himself in frustration at his carelessness and obediently placed the crowning piece on Debbie's man. "Sam was right, you ARE a tiger on the checkerboard," he commented ruefully, although he was quietly pleased to see that a warm meal made special by candlelight, gentle banter during clean-up, and now a winning streak at checkers had allowed her carefree and exuberant nature to return. That the storm itself had eased in the meanwhile hadn't hurt any.  
  
"Did Miss Parker REALLY give Sam a bad time after I beat him?" Debbie asked with a curious and astonished smile.  
  
"She still mentions it from time to time, just to tweak him a little," he admitted, his face crinkling in merriment remembering the look of chagrin that would inevitably come over the otherwise intimidating sweeper's face.   
  
"Then we won't mention our games to her," Debbie suggested with a twinkle in her eye. "I don't want her to give you a bad time too."  
  
"You're too kind," Sydney said with a half-bow from the waist, then without thinking made a move that had Debbie chortling again as she jumped another three men and cleaned him off the board. "Argh! But out of fairness - since he did warn me about you this morning - I'll have to take Sam aside and let him know that I know how he feels."  
  
Debbie grinned at him across the coffee table, then looked about her in surprise when all of a sudden the electric lights in the cabin flared back to life. She looked over at her host, a shadow of disappointment on her face. "Do we have to put the candles and lamps out now?"  
  
"You enjoy the candlelight, do you?" Sydney asked indulgently, and the girl nodded enthusiastically. "Well, then, there's no reason we HAVE to blow out the candles. How about you just go turn off the electric lights instead."  
  
Debbie shot him a look of pure delight, then sprang to her feet to do as he'd directed and then trotted back to her place across the table from him. "Can we play another game?"  
  
"Alright, one more," he agreed slowly, "and then I think we both could do with some sleep."   
  
Together they put their checkers back in their starting places, and this game didn't go nearly as fast as had the four previous to it. This time, Sydney put his full concentration on the game, rather than letting his mind wander as he had before, and he managed to sneak out one victory - barely. Debbie was a very good opponent who was gifted in the art of strategy and, with her good mood restored, she turned out to be as gracious a loser as she was an enthusiastic winner. Having to work as hard as she did only to ultimately lose, however, made her more than willing to set the checkerboard away for the night when the game was over.  
  
While she finished boxing up the board and pieces, Sydney went over to a bureau and opened a drawer, then pulled out a flashlight and handed it to the girl. "Use this to get yourself upstairs and get ready for bed. I'll be up to tuck you in after a bit, and I'll have a nice before-bed treat for you when I come up."  
  
"OK." She smiled at him with a look of happy expectation, then took the flashlight from him and, turning on the beam, trotted obediently up the stairs. Meanwhile, he made the circuit of the room, blowing out all the candles and oil lamps save the one that had lit their checkerboard, then used that to light his way into the kitchen and gather together the ingredients for hot chocolate.   
  
Five minutes later, he was tapping on the wall outside the curtained doorway of the upstairs bedroom with his foot, each hand full of steaming mug. "Is it safe?"  
  
Debbie, now garbed in her pajamas, moved aside the curtain to admit her host, her eyes widening when she caught sight and a whiff of what he was carrying. "Hot chocolate?" she looked up at him in amazement.  
  
"I thought it would be a nice way to put an end to a special day," Sydney remarked, pleased that he'd surprised her so pleasantly with something he regularly made for himself at this time of night. "You climb into bed, and we'll enjoy our treat together."  
  
The little girl fairly bounced into bed and pulled the blankets and bedspread over her legs and lap. Sydney waited until the bed had stopped moving, then seated himself on the edge next to her and carefully handed her the mug. Debbie's eyes danced when she saw the floating marshmallows, and then she sipped at the hot liquid and closed her eyes. "Oh, wow! Thanks, Sydney."   
  
"I'm glad you like it," he answered, sipping at his own drink. "And I'm glad you're enjoying your stay."  
  
"Oh, yes!" she exclaimed, her eyes shining. "I love it up here, it's so beautiful."  
  
"Even when it storms?" he asked her carefully.  
  
Her expression grew more serious. "I still don't like storms," she began, then thought for a bit, "but we did make it fun, didn't we? I never knew they could be fun, just scary."  
  
"Lots of things are scary when we don't know what's going on. It helps, most of the time, to let someone know you're scared so they can help you figure things out and get un-scared."  
  
Sydney could tell from the expression in those wide, sky-blue eyes that Debbie was listening to him very carefully and considering what he was saying. "But what about when that person gets mad when you tell them you're scared and they scare you even more?" Her voice had become small.  
  
"Then you learn not to tell that particular person that you're scared anymore. But you keep telling others you know until you find someone who will help you," he said gently, once more stomping down a feeling of disgust that a mother would react to her child's normal fears like that. "Like your Dad. I can't see your Dad ever getting angry with you just because something frightens you."  
  
"I don't want anybody to think I'm a baby," she muttered into her hot chocolate, suddenly not able to meet the gaze of this kindly old man whose opinion of her was becoming important.  
  
"You're not a baby, Debbie," he reassured her quickly, cupping a cheek gently with a hand warm from cradling warm ceramic. "And your Dad doesn't think you're a baby either, I'm sure."  
  
"Even if I'm scared of storms?"   
  
"I know plenty of grown-ups who get very upset at storms," Sydney informed her honestly, nodding at her blink of surprise. "Sometimes people are just frightened and upset at things, and it doesn't mean they're acting like babies."  
  
"Did your grandmother tell you lots of stories?" she asked suddenly. "Other than the one about angels crashing clouds together, I mean?  
  
He smiled at her. "My grandmother was one of the most interesting story-tellers I've ever met," he told her. "She could keep Jacob and me enchanted by the hour when she'd start telling fairytales, or start remembering when she was a girl in Aix en Provence."  
  
"Aix en Provence? Where is that? Is that where you're from?"  
  
Sydney chuckled. "No, Aix en Provence is another place in France. That's where my grandmother came from. My brother and I were born in near Luxembourg, in Belgium, and then our parents moved us to Lyons."   
  
"Daddy took me to Paris for my birthday this past year," Debbie told him with a happy smile on her face. "Did you ever visit there?"  
  
"Many times, after I grew up," he told her, then signaled for her to finish her drink. "But not for a long time now. And I knew your Dad was thinking of taking you there - he asked me to help him practice his conversational French."  
  
Debbie drained the rest of her hot chocolate as Sydney finished his, and handed him the empty mug with a shy smile. "Sydney?"  
  
"What?" he asked, putting the empty mugs aside on the nightstand and signaling for her to lay down so that he could tuck her in.  
  
She complied, but continued to peer up at him as he arranged the warm covers over her. "Do you think it would be OK if I pretended something else for the rest of my visit here?"  
  
He blinked, then nodded. "I don't think it would hurt much, depending on what it is you want to pretend. What is it?"  
  
Wide blue eyes gazed up into his face, a combination of hesitancy and hope written across her face. "Can I pretend that you're my grandfather until you take me home?"  
  
Sydney sat down again heavily on the side of the bed stunned at the simplicity of the question and the unerring way it had touched him so deeply. "Debbie, you can pretend that whenever you want, and not just when we're up here," he said in a voice made gruff with emotion, and took both her little hands in his big ones and held on. "I can't think of anything I would enjoy more than that. I'm very honored you'd ask me." He bent over her and deposited a loving kiss on her forehead. "You sleep now, ma petite, and I'll see you in the morning."  
  
Debbie settled into her pillows and closed her eyes with a contented smile on her face. "OK. Goodnight."   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Well, let me see what you've done then..." Sydney asked, reaching for Debbie's sketchbook over his lunch plate. Carefully he examined each of the three colored pencil drawings she'd added to her collection, then looked over at her. "These are veeerrrrry good," he remarked, impressed. "I like the one you did of the cabin especially."  
  
"Would you like to have it?" the girl asked, her face lighting up with the praise.  
  
"May I?" he asked in return, handing the sketchbook back to its owner.   
  
In answer, Debbie carefully separated the page from the adhesive that held it in the book and handed it to him.   
  
"Can you sign and date it for me?" he asked, still holding it out to her. "That would make it special."  
  
She flashed him a brilliant smile and bent to do as he'd asked with a black pencil, then handed it back to him. "There."  
  
Sydney studied the sketch with a critical eye. Debbie showed real talent for her drawings; she had rendered the cabin very faithfully, and done the autumn colors of its setting full justice. He could already visualize it matted and framed and mounted in his office - where Broots would be able to enjoy his daughter's handiwork too. Perhaps he would see to it that there was a Christmas present of art studies books under the tree for a certain little girl this year. He smiled inwardly. Yes, indeed - that would be most appropriate, under the circumstances.  
  
It had been too wet still outside for her to roam too far up the mountainside that morning, so she had compromised and done her sketches close to the cabin itself. She had found a log to sit on and pivot for different views, and brought forth not just this one study, but rather three drawings of the immediate vicinity of the cabin - including one that showed the view of the lake. For his part, he had contented himself with planting himself in one of the wooden chairs on the wide porch and sorting through an old box of fishing lures he and his brother had made together years ago, making sure the flies were all still in good shape. From there, he'd been able to watch over her without intruding or seeming to be too protective.  
  
"Do we have to go back today?" Debbie asked quietly.  
  
"You have school in the morning," he reminded her gently, chuckling at the unenthusiastic grimace she gave him in response, "and I have to be back at work myself. Your Dad is supposed to call me sometime soon to let me know if he will be back tonight or tomorrow sometime."  
  
"What's going to happen if he's not back tonight?"  
  
"You'll stay with me in town then," he answered easily. "I'll make sure that you get to school on time before I leave for work. If your Dad is still out of town when school is out, I'll have Sam pick you up and bring you in to The Centre - you can draw or do your homework until I'm ready to leave for the day again. How's that sound?"  
  
Debbie nodded contentedly and munched on a chip. "Will I have time to skip some stones before we leave?"   
  
"We won't start packing until the middle of the afternoon," he informed her after a sip of coffee. "You can have an hour or two before you need to come in and gather your things together. I'm sure that's plenty of time to skip some stones."  
  
"Would there be enough time for us to take another walk together, like we did yesterday?" she asked quietly.  
  
"Where do you want to walk this time?"  
  
She thought for a moment. "Around the lake?"  
  
Sydney chuckled. "That's a lot farther than you think, ma petite - I think it would take all of the afternoon and into the evening for us to get all the way back here. Maybe the next time we're up here, we'll walk all the way around the lake. Let's stick to skipping stones and pencil drawings for today, alright?"  
  
"OK." A comfortable and companionable silence fell between them as they finished their lunch. Then: "Sydney?"  
  
"Hmmm?"  
  
"I'm glad I stayed with you."  
  
The older man gazed at the girl, sitting so close to the beginnings of adolescence. She was going to be a real beauty. "I'm glad you did too, Debbie," he responded gently. "I'm glad we got a chance to get to know each other better. Your Daddy talks about you a lot."  
  
"He talks about you too," she nodded.   
  
"Then it was about time the two of us got to know each other, eh?" He could see that there was something on her mind that she wanted to say or ask, but was working up the nerve to speak, so he let the silence fall between them again to make room for her question. The cell phone in his pocket chose that moment to begin chirping at him, however.  
  
"This is Sydney."  
  
"H...hi Syd. How are things going with Debbie?" Broots' voice sounded far away.  
  
"We're fine, Broots. I brought her up to the cabin, and we've been enjoying the peace and quiet." Sydney smiled at Debbie, and saw her face light up as she realized he was talking to her father. "Do you want to speak to her?"  
  
He handed over the appliance and reached for his coffee cup again while Debbie chattered at her father briefly and enthusiastically. Then, with a wistful farewell, the girl handed him his phone back. "Yes?"  
  
"I told her that I'll be seeing her tonight - if Mr. Raines doesn't decide to open another avenue of investigation again, that is. I'll call you about five tonight your time if things run late on this end."  
  
Sydney nodded. "I halfway expected this," he admitted to the technician. "Don't worry about Debbie - if things run late, I'll drop her at school tomorrow, and if need be, I'll have Sam bring her to the Sim Lab after school."  
  
"If that's OK with you. I know its an imposition..." Broots' tone communicated his regret clearly.  
  
"Not at all. Think nothing of it," Sydney soothed, waving his other hand as if the gesture could be seen. "Just keep Mr. Raines happy, and we'll see you soon, then." He nodded a couple more times, then gave his farewell and closed the connection. "Well, how about you help me clear the table and do dishes, and then you can go outside again for a while?"  
  
"Will you come out and skip stones with me after that?"  
  
He smiled. "I think that can be arranged..."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Daddy!"   
  
Broots stepped through the front door of Sydney's home and opened his arms wide just in time to catch his rocketing daughter up in a tight embrace. Behind him, the psychiatrist gently shut his front door against the chill of the autumn evening, then smiled at the sight of the two greeting each other.   
  
"Thanks a lot, Syd," Broots turned and extended his hand to his co-worker. "I really appreciate your minding Debbie for me while I was in Texas."  
  
"It was my pleasure, Broots," the older man assured his friend easily. "Debbie and I had a very quiet and relaxing weekend at Angel Lake."  
  
"Isn't it pretty up there?" Broots asked the girl at his side, anticipating her answer.  
  
Debbie didn't disappoint. "Its just as beautiful as you said it was, Daddy," she gushed.  
  
"As a matter of fact," Sydney piped up, remembering his promise, "I was thinking that maybe you would consider letting me take Debbie and one or two of her friends up there for a weekend maybe sometime this summer?"  
  
Broots blinked in surprise. "Really? Sure... yeah!" Not exactly sure how to take the unexpected invitation, he turned to his daughter. "Deb? Did you hear that?"  
  
Debbie nodded, her eyes now glued to the man with whom she'd spent the last two days. "Thank you, Sydney," she said with dancing eyes, then reached up her hands for a hug from the older man.   
  
Sydney smiled and picked Debbie up so that she could wrap her arms around his neck and gave her a hug. "You're welcome, ma petite," he answered softly, in a voice meant only for her ears. He kissed her cheek gently. "You be good for your Dad, now, won't you?"  
  
The girl nodded solemnly then kissed his cheek in return. "I will," she promised.  
  
Sydney set her back down, then helped her sling her overstuffed backpack over one shoulder and then gather the two sacks that held the extra clothing. Then he opened the front door to let his guests leave.  
  
"Thanks again, Syd," Broots waved. Debbie turned and waved too.  
  
Sydney waved, then watched as the man and his daughter climbed into the beat-up sedan and back carefully from his driveway. He sighed as he closed his front door again, feeling the emptiness of his house now that his young guest had left. He hadn't realized how quickly he'd become accustomed to the energy Debbie added to her surroundings, or how much he'd miss her and her energy when she left. He would have to break out his cookbooks and invite Broots and Debbie over for dinner sometime soon. It would be nice to know he had someone to consider entertaining for a change. He also decided he'd ask Broots if he could have one of Debbie's school pictures when he saw the tech in the morning. He knew exactly where he'd be keeping it.  
  
He walked into his kitchen, flipped on the light and looked across the room at his refrigerator. It made his heart feel warm to see the pencil sketch of his mountain cabin held to the front appliance with two nondescript magnets and to remember Debbie's face glowing happily as they had put it up there together after scrabbling together through several utility drawers in search of magnets. At the time, the picture had been placed there only temporarily - and one day, he WOULD have it matted and framed for display in his Centre office. But, now that he thought about it, he wouldn't let that happen for a while yet.  
  
For now, he would enjoy the warmth the drawing lent his home and the sense of family, however real or unreal, that it would provide him every time he looked at it. Many had been the times he'd wished he dared bring one of Jarod's drawings home with him to post in a similar way - but refrained in order to attempt to maintain at least the illusion of scientific objectivity for The Powers That Be. This was the first time his refrigerator had held a child's drawing done just for him.   
  
And he didn't need to come close to know that Debbie had done more than just sign and date her picture. Below, she'd dedicated it "To Grandpa Sydney with love". He would keep the picture on his refrigerator for as long as he felt he wanted to relish this secret bond before letting Broots in on it.  
  
Jarod had once remarked to him, after the conclusion of one of his Pretends, that family wasn't so much about blood as it was about love. As he opened the refrigerator to get out the milk for his nightly treat of hot chocolate, he knew his protégé had been right. Family WAS all about love, and blood had very little to do with it. His weekend of minding Debbie had been about finding family in unexpected places - a lesson he wouldn't soon forget with the picture on the refrigerator reminding him daily.  
  
  
Feedback, please: mbumpus_99@hotmail.com 


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